


Heavy

by Sixaola



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixaola/pseuds/Sixaola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Jane Crocker, and your fork had never felt heavier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy

Your name is Jane Crocker, and your fork had never felt heavier.

You didn't mean to, really. But it's not a matter of what you intended or the events that lead to this or the voices in your head laughing or the glowing tiara top on your head.  
Not your red clothes or your red weapon or how everything is so red.

The thing is, that there is a dead troll with nubby horns and a blood-stained sweater with four holes right in the chest and blood is still spilling out of them.

Four holes. Caused by your fork.

Caused by you.

And then the troll with black lips and short hair and green eyes comes running and falls at his side, clutching him.  
Trying to stop the bleeding.  
Telling him that everything will be alright, that he isn't going to die, but you know that she knows you weren't fooling around and that the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth is the sign of internal bleeding.

Caused by you.

It's kind of funny, if you think of it. Something that was supposed to be harmless, something you were supposed to be able to trust, something that was such an important aspect of your life and your future, something you loved, could do this to you.  
Could use your mind and body and powers, powers meant to be good, helpful, to cause such harm.  
To cause so much pain. Not just to you, as much as you hate to admit that She is enjoying it, but to people who trust you.  
Who care about you.  
Who love you.

 

A certain Strider you know would have called it pure irony, but not you, to you it's just a sick joke.

 

You try to fight it.  
You really do.  
You kick and scream and beg just please, please let me go I don't want to do this I don't want to hurt them pleASE PLEASE I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING PLEA-

You turn around, the troll is dead and gone and green tears roll down the other troll's face, and you just want to reach out and tell her how sorry you are, you didn't mean to do this-

OBEY.

You stretch your arm and your fingers, you point them at him. You look at his glassy eyes and parted lips dripping blood and his limp body and his wounds and you're sorry, so sorry I never wanted this to happen-

SUBMIT.

Your fingers snap and his eyes focus again, arching forward and gasping loud, his lungs fill with air again, you can feel it, feel life slipping from your finger tips and giving him his back. He swears and cries and hiccups, four holes no longer visible, healed.

Around you, green and blue start to fill the air and you hear an animalistic growl bubble from the throat of your ectodaughter- bark, woof.

The troll with nubby horns looks at you and swears again.  
You give him a blank stare in return.

CONSUME.

Your name is Jane Crocker, and your fork had never felt heavier.


End file.
